


The Awesome brother of mine

by darkangel89



Series: The Autistic Series [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Anorexic Sam Winchester, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Sam Winchester, Brother/Brother Incest, Brotherly Love, Doubtful Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Love, M/M, Nice John Winchester, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Overprotective Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel89/pseuds/darkangel89
Summary: Sam may be autistic, but he's also so much more than that.He's Dean's beloved little brother and he's fuckin' awesome.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not fully written yet, so please be nice with me. I'd love to hear what you think of it, because writing from Dean's point of view is a pain in the ass for me. But I really tried to keep him in character, both to the show and to my story.

Well, screw it I'd say.  
  
Thing is, this story isn't really about me.   
  
So, long story short, I'm Dean John Winchester.   
  
Yup, there, I said it - my whole name. My grandma on my mother's side were named Deanna, so my mom named me after her, well, I guess dad had a part in it too. My dad's name is John so you can probably figure out where I got the middle name from, and Winchester is our family - cold as stone and hot as fire from a shotgun.   
  
I got a little brother too, his name is Sam.   
  
He's awesome. Handsome too, like in an innocent kind of way. He's got autism - something I've been aware of since the age of seven even if nobody cared to tell me. Well, I grew up too fast so I probably noticed it a lot earlier too, but it has never really bothered me.   
  
This is his story in my words.   
  
Like, my kind of story of growing up with a brother who has a disability. And that's just fucking it.   
  
Because Sam may be autistic, but he's also so much more than that. Like I said, he's awesome, innocent, hot as ever and he's smart, fun and makes everyone smile once they actually get his thing, his being - his humor.   
  
And to me, he's kinda the reason I'm still alive today.   
  
Well, probably I wouldn't have done some fucked up, stupid shit like ending my life on purpose - of course not, like Sam would say - but seriously, he kept me going when there was nothing else to keep me above the surface.   
  
And maybe this isn't my story and there might not be an end to it in the long run, but it's a beginning of sorts and I guess this is our beginning - in my words.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sammy, please don't cry." Dean whispered to the baby in the small crib and watched as the fat tears rolled down the baby's chubby cheeks in total silence.  
  
Dean wasn't entirely sure it was normal for babies to cry like that, his little brother was only five days old and Dean had no other experience, so he just didn't know. But Dean didn't want his new little brother to be sad because it made his tummy hurt and that's why he climbed up onto the crib and slid himself down to lay beside the baby. If he laid there, then maybe Sam wouldn't cry anymore.  
  
Carefully, Dean whipped away the tears from Sam's chubby cheeks and talked to him, said things mom used to say to Dean when he was sad too. But when Dean was sad, he cried with sounds and noises, sobbing and screaming like any other kid his age would, but Sam was quiet and maybe that's why mom didn't get up to make Sam not cry.  
  
"That's right," Dean smiled as he watched the tears stop running from the corners of his new little brother's brown-green eyes. "no tears no more."  
  
Dean wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually, someone woke up, carried him back to his own room and made him promise not to do that anymore because he could accidentally suffocate his brother in their sleep. But that didn't change the fact that Dean awoke most nights to Sam's quiet crying and climbed up into the crib with him to have his tears stop. It wasn't like the baby awoke him with the crying sound, because Sammy never sobbed or screamed like Dean did when he cried, but there was always something that awoke him and he'd go to Sam's room and make him stop crying.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dean didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he had just been outside, getting in, so in reality, in all honesty, he had walked in on it by accident. But instead of showing himself, like he knew he should do, he stood in the doorway and listened to every word mom were saying There was no voice getting back to her for a respond, but he still figured out what the man said by hearing her answers.  
  
“There's something wrong with him, John.” Mom said and Dean looked down at his shoes and sighed, was he wrong? What had he done now? “But he's not eating or crying, it's like he doesn't feel when he's hungry or wet or want to be held, you know, like Dean, hell, most babies do. Maybe he's deaf.”  
  
There was a pause and Dean looked down at his shoes. They were dirty, black shoe-prints fallowed his every step and Dean sighed once more where he stood in the hallway, eavesdropping on mom, talking about Sam over the phone. Maybe mom was right. Maybe that was the reason why Sammy never really cried. He did cry, Dean thought, but not with sound. He did make noise through his lips at times, but otherwise he was quiet. Quiet, like all the time.  
  
“John, no. I do.” Mom sounded so sad and Dean furrowed his brows, what had dad said to make mom sound so sad? “I do love him, John. And at this very moment, I might love him a lot more than you.”  
  
Then Dean heard her slapping the phone onto it's place by the kitchen stove and when he heard her sobbing, he went straight to her side, – with dirty shoes and everything – then he took her hand and dragged her down onto his height and hugged her.  
  
“It's all going to get better.” He whispered in her ear. “I promise.”  
  
Dean might not have understood all of what that phone call was about, but he was sure mom didn't have to cry for it. Because she loved them all, Sam too and even if Sam was deaf, mom would still love him and Dean was totally sure about that.  
  
  
But on the other hand, he wasn't so sure about dad.  
  


* * *

  
  
It wasn't the routine to go to Sam's bed that awoke him that night, it was the night-lamp in his room that flinched it's smooth light on and off and it started to really annoy him cause he was tired and he really wanted to sleep. Then he heard it, the baby that cried. Was that Sam? Dean listened with big eyes, he had never actually heard Sam cry before.  
  
Carefully, not to wake anyone else in the house, Dean crept out of his room, – like he did most nights anyway – and followed the sound. But the door to Sam's room was already open and dad stood hunched over Sam's crib and the room was cold, but there was no window open and the lamps in there also flinched itself on and off. Wasn't that odd?  
  
Dean opened his mouth to ask dad what he was doing and why Sam was crying like that, but closed it again when he saw the man – his dad? – do something with his wrist and there was suddenly blood in Sam's mouth and why.. Dean shook his head, no, it had to be a nightmare. Sam couldn't even cry and dad wouldn't do that to him, whatever it was that he did. Dean just as carefully as before, crept back to his own room, laid down in the bed and pressed his eyes closed, hoping for sleep to catch him.  
  
But when he opened his eyes again, it was on a scream that wasn't his own and then dad yelled mom's name, over and over again. Had mom hurt herself? Had dad hurt Sam? What the heck was happening? Dean knew he wasn't allowed to use bad words, but in his thoughts, in silence, that night, he could use them as freely as he wanted cause nobody could hear him. This time, he ran into the hallway and then dad was there, holding Sam in a blanket and he was saying something and then Dean had Sammy in his arms.  
  
“Daddy?”  
  
“Take your brother outside as fast as you can.” The house started to get hot and Sam's nursery was in flames. “Don't look back. Now, Dean, go!” Dad turned him by the elbow and pushed him into the direction of the stairs and Dean held tightly onto the baby he had in his arms.  
  
The baby that actually cried. There was no other thoughts than to bring Sammy into safeness and that was outside the house, just like dad had said. And when the fresh night air blew in his hair and Dean looked up to the window of Sam's nursery, the walls looked painted with yellow and Dean decided to hate that color from that moment on.  
  
“We're okay, Sammy.” Before he had time to say anything more, he was flying and dad said;  
  
“I've gotch ya.”  
  
Then the police and ambulance came, the firefighters too and Dean didn't want to watch as they tried to control the evil flames that had eaten his mom, made her disappear up to heaven just like grandpa and that meant Dean wouldn't ever get to see her again. Dean looked down at Sam, the baby he'd just saved from the fires and wondered what Sam would do now.  
  
Without mom. Without anyone in the world who really cared. Because Sam was deaf. Or maybe he wasn't. But that night, long before dad stuffed them into the car and drove for miles and miles, Dean promised Sam he would care. Just as much as mom had done. Just as much as dad hopefully would. Dean also made a promise to himself, he was always going to protect Sam, just like he'd done that night – because he wanted to.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Dad had talked about Jim before, Dean had even met him twice, and he had always thought Jim was a nice man, but he took Sam's blood in a silver bowl and..  
  
Wait. Dean blinked, shook his head and wondered how they got there in the first place and maybe he should try to focus on that instead of getting angry with a God's man. Because Jim was a priest, or a pastor or some sort of holy man, Dean couldn't really remember that either. And dad wasn't even in the same room to protect them from him.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, then reopened them again when he saw the flames. He never wanted to open his eyes again. Poor Sammy was crying. A lot. More than what could be normal. Dean looked at his crying baby brother and then he looked at him that tried to take Sam's blood. Why was he doing that? Didn't he realize Sam was in pain because of him?  
  
Dean looked away with tears in his eyes as the big, evil man of God tried to cut a knife in Sam's flesh but wasn't able to and Dean didn't want to watch him succeed. He'd made a promise that night, three days ago, he'd promised to protect Sam for always and ever. That meant something, right? And to protect him, Dean needed to do stuff like mom should have done if she was there at the moment and like dad would do if.. if what?? If he cared enough?  
  
But dad did care, right? Or didn't he? Dean sighed, he wasn't even sure anymore. Because he wasn't talking and dad hadn't said anything about it, it was like he didn't even notice it and maybe he didn't. And there was a reason for that, Dean knew that reason and the thought brought tears to his eyes. Mom was gone, and she was never coming back. And dad was sad, probably more so than Dean.  
  
Yeah right, they'd been in the car and in motels, that was what dad had said anyway and Dean remembered the lady that had given Sam breast milk, or well, she had tried to. But Sam hadn't wanted it, maybe he wasn't hungry. Dean sighed and shook his head, this wasn't alright, this wasn't a nice man and he wanted to leave.  
  
When he heard Sam cry harder, Dean finally turned his head back to watch the baby and before his mind reacted to his actions, he stood from the chair and walked straight to Jim and when Dean stood by his side, he grabbed the man's hand that held the knife and pushed it away from Sam. Sam was his now, Dean decided, his baby to protect, his brother to love and nobody was ever going to hurt him while Dean was there, watching.  
  
“Dean, please, I need you to cooperate with me here.” Jim said as he struggled his hand out of Dean's grip, then he let the knife rest on the table as he hunched down to make better eye contact. “I wouldn't ever do this if I didn't have to. I only to this cause I need you boys protected.”  
  
Jim sounded sincere, but Dean wasn't entirely sure he was trustworthy, especially not with Sammy and a knife. Sam needed protection and dad wasn't there, that only left Dean there to make that protection. Was Jim going to hurt Sam? Yes, if he used the knife, he would. Dean shook his head, he didn't want Jim to hurt Sam. Sam was just a baby and nobody should ever hurt a baby. Especially not Dean's baby.  
  
“Sam won't be hurt for too long, Dean.” Jim said, got back up straightly and held down a different bowl so Dean would be able to see the inside of it. “When I've made the smallest of cuts, with that knife, and got myself a few droplets of blood, I'll put this on the cut for awhile and then the wound will close up with a prayer to God. I only do this because I have to, Dean.”  
  
Dean looked into the bowl and furrowed his brows in confusion. How could Jim believe that Sam would stop bleeding with that? It looked like some kind of porridge and Dean made a face by the smell from the bowl, it smelled sour, a scent he'd never once felt in his life before and it wasn't anything nice. But Dean didn't talk and Jim wasn't going to let up on it, so Dean just sighed. Jim was going to hurt Sam. And Dean would've to watch it and break his promise already. A promise he really shouldn't have to break to a baby.  
  
Tears filled his eyes and Dean looked down at his feet as Jim lifted the knife again. When he grabbed one of Sam's feet and raised the knife to it, Dean pressed his eyes closed, turned around and sobbed in time as Sam screamed. Sam was a quiet baby. Or he had been, at least. Now however, he wasn't quiet. Dean on the other hand was.  
  
Then Sam grew quiet again, his screams ended and Dean blinked his eyes open, pulled in a deep breath and turned around to see Sam with his face turned to him and they made eye contact for a second or two before Sam broke it off. But it had been long enough for Dean to see that no, Sam wasn't in pain anymore and that the weird porridge had actually worked. Carefully, trying not to be in the way, Dean went up to his brother, grabbed his foot and looked, there was no trace, whatsoever, that there had even been a knife cutting him there. Dean looked at the other foot too, just to make sure and there was nothing. Huh.  
  
“It's the praise of God, son. There won't be any help without harm and vice verse.” Dean made a face, didn't understand a thing the man was babbling about, but whatever, Sam wasn't hurt anymore, so Dean nodded to whatever Jim said after that. “You'll understand when you get older.”  
  
Then Jim turned the knife on him, the same one without it being washed and Dean opened his mouth to protest, but ended up shaking his head instead. But before he had time to really react with panic of the pain that was to come, Jim pushed him onto the chair, grabbed his foot and cut him faster than Dean could blink. There was blood, alright, and it was dropped into the Sam bowl as Sam's blood had earlier. Dean looked away from it, and before the tears had started rolling down his cheeks, there was no pain no more.  
  
Weird.  
  
Jim walked to a table, lit a white candle and Dean looked at Sam – didn't want to see the flame – and then he priest or pastor or whatever said something in words Dean had never heard before. What was he saying? And why did he talk so quietly? A bit later, after he'd said the strange words, he held the silver bowl over the candle flame and looked down, into it and soon, Dean could hear a voice in the room. And he knew for sure it wasn't Jim.  
  
“I'm gonna have to kill you all.” Dean looked around and swallowed, he was not letting anyone kill Sammy. “I made a big mistake by Sam, but it was the orders I were given and now I'm being punished for it.”  
  
Sam started to cry and Dean was just about to go over to him, to make him comfortable, to protect him, but one look at Jim and Dean stayed there he was. Something in Jim's eyes told him they both needed to stay put and be alert to what the voice said, so Dean, even through only being four years old, straightened without leaving the seat and listened carefully at the voice he didn't like and the words he didn't really understand.  
  
“Where is the disabled, little freak, anyway?” The voice said and Dean looked at Jim in confusion and surprise, he hadn't ever heard the word disabled, but he knew the word freak was a very bad word and then the room filled with laughter that seemed to come from every corner of the room and Sam was still crying. “Ah, there you are. Poor little Sammy.”  
  
Dean blinked and the hairs on his entire body stood in ends by the time the laughter calmed itself down. Whose voice was it? And why did it feel sorry for Sam? Dean didn't understand and it was beginning to become too much for him, but then the voice speed up, so he could hear it talk but not the words and then the laughter returned, but it didn't sound as evil anymore and then the voice said;  
  
“This is not supposed to happen. This was never my plan when I gave him the powers.” The room grew quiet after that, before an echo of a cough startled them both and they made eye contact as the voice whispered it's last words; “You trained him good.”  
  
Trained him? Dean sighed in frustration because he needed to listen and to understand what the stupid voice said, but it was hard, he was just a kid himself and Sam was too little to be going to school to train.. trained at what, exactly? And then the voice didn't speak anymore and Jim let the bowl of blood down onto the table before he went to Sam, picked up the hiccuping baby into his arms and then he dipped his fingers into the bowl – two of them – and smeared it on Sam's forehead, then he did the same to Dean as he said things Dean didn't understand.  
  
“Drink this and you'd feel better in the morning.” Jim said and held a glass in front of him and without question, Dean drank it down, and then the world turned black.  
  
It'd take years for Dean to actually remember the ritual Jim did upon them that night. And maybe that was for the best.

 

 


End file.
